


Don't Let Go

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: WinterIron Bingo [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fear, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Psychological Torture, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21522799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Bucky does not like this plan. He’s been following Steve Rogers around for the better part of a century, and he knows a bad plan when he sees one. Too bad they don’t have any other plans
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: WinterIron Bingo [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1312511
Comments: 66
Kudos: 673
Collections: WinterIron Bingo 2019





	1. Thriller

**Author's Note:**

> WinterIron Bingo  
> Chap 1 - B5 Thriller  
> Chap 2 - O5 Fear of Heights  
> Cha 3 - B1 Team fic
> 
> And that finishes off our WinterIron Bingo -- blackout!
> 
> * added as bookmark to [personal collection ](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/IronSoldier_1)

“Did you get the codes?”

Natasha gave Clint the mother of all “Bitch, please” looks. “Of course I got the codes. There is, however... a small hiccup.”

“Hiccup,” Steve repeated. “What kind of hiccup?”

She smiled at him winningly, and that was when Tony knew they were fucked. “They’ve moved bases,” she said. “My target did not know the location of the new base.”

“So we’ll just track ‘em down again,” Clint said.

“No, birdbrain,” Tony said. “It took us three weeks to find the first base -- and somehow, we tipped them off, because they _moved_. There’s no way we’re going to find the new place before the codes expire.”

Natasha nodded. “Three days is all we have,” she said. She cocked her head at Tony. “How long would it take you to create a tracker, undetectable by currently known methods?”

He considered it. “Twenty-four hours. Maybe eighteen, if Bruce is willing to lend a hand.” He scooted closer to Bruce and flipped a workscreen out of his phone, started sketching designs. Bruce leaned in to poke at it, starting a running column of calculations down one side.

“You have a plan?” Steve asked Natasha.

“Perhaps,” she said.

“You got somethin’ that’ll make this go our way for a change,” Bucky put in, “let’s hear it.”

“They are scavengers,” Natasha pointed out. “Stealing and recycling and repurposing others’ tech.”

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “Clever enough to re-engineer, but not quite enough to create their own designs.”

Natasha nodded. “We do have some very... unique tech,” she pointed out, “right here at this table.”

Everything went quiet, and Tony looked up. Half the table was looking straight at him. The other half was staring at Bucky. Natasha was looking down at her hands, spread flat on the table.

The whole team was decked out with technological toys of one sort or another, but these guys wouldn’t be interested in anything so trivial. Or impossible to reverse-engineer, like Steve’s shield or Thor’s hammer. Bucky’s arm, however, was a marvel of engineering. As was Tony’s arc reactor.

“Well,” Tony murmured, “let’s hear it for Team Nonconsensual Body Modifications.”

"I've got this," Bucky said. "We need you available, in case shit goes south. And when don't it?"

Bucky was scowling, giving Nat the full Winter Treatment. It worked about as well as it always did, which was to say _not at all._

She just nodded. “If we had a week to set it up, that would be the best route,” she agreed. “If only because you can live without your arm, if it comes to that. Tony’s lifespan without the arc reactor is... significantly shorter.” She sighed. “But to get them to be careless enough to move before the codes expire...”

“It’s going to have to be both of them,” Clint summarized.

"No, this is a bad plan, Nat," Bucky repeated. "And I know bad plans. I been friends with Steve for over a hundred years, after all."

Steve elbowed Bucky in protest, but it didn’t look like it had much heart behind it.

“This will work,” Natasha said. “We dangle you two as bait and let them kidnap you. Follow the tracker to the new hideout. Clint and I go for the data, and as soon as we’re clear, Steve, Thor, and Hulk can break them out.

“And if they don’t take the bait?” Bruce wondered.

“Then we’re no worse off than we were three weeks ago,” Natasha said.

"Tony," Bucky turned on him, not with the murder stare, but infinitely worse, those wide, pleading eyes. "I don't like this plan."

“It’s not my favorite op we’ve run this year, either, snowflake,” Tony admitted, “but it’ll probably work. Relax. I’ve been kidnapped so many times I could probably sleepwalk through it. It’ll be fine.”

There went the murder scowl. "Not reassuring."

“You have a better idea?” Clint challenged.

The murder scowl only got darker.

“Right,” Tony said. “If I’m going to be trusting our lives to this tracker, I’d better make sure it’s perfect. Bruce? Care to step into my laboratory?”

Bruce agreed, amiable as ever. 

As Tony was leaving the Operations Room, Cap patted Bucky on the shoulder. "It should only be a few hours, pal," he said, bracingly.

Tony prayed that would be true. Whatever tentative... thing had been building between them, the last few weeks, it didn’t need to be rocked off-center by the stress of kidnapping and imprisonment.

He would just have to make sure this tracker worked _perfectly_.

***

Bucky was beginning to think that they weren’t doing a very good job as bait; that somehow, the scavengers knew something was amiss. Because he and Tony had been left entirely alone for almost a day and a half. If they didn’t jump soon -- and it annoyed Bucky that they didn’t even have a name for the Assholes of the Week -- the Avengers were going to have to start all over again.

Which had the advantage of, at least Tony wouldn’t have to get kidnapped. _Again._ His blase attitude toward being abducted and probably tortured, possibly killed, was getting on Bucky’s very last nerve.

“You’re looking particularly murder-y,” Tony observed. “Also, stop checking the exits. They are not going to close in if they can see you’re being hypervigilant.”

“This is normal amounts of vigilant,” Bucky complained. “You’ll know, trust me, if I become hyper- _anything_.”

“Is that a promise?” Tony shot back, more out of reflex than because he was actually feeling flirtatious. “Look, I know, it physically pains me to be acting this stupid, but they need to feel confident. Pretend there’s a message encoded in the print on the table or something.”

“You want them to think I ain’t _paying attention_ , that they can get confident?” Bucky demanded, like it was a threat. 

“ _Yes,_ ” Tony said. “You’re terrifying; they’re not going to grab us unless they think they’ll be able to get away with it.”

_Terrifying?_ Bucky sighed inwardly. It was damn hard to romance a fella with a fifty year age gap, he didn’t need to be scary, on top of that. “Right, great, fantastic,” Bucky muttered. “Right. Uh, don’t struggle.”

“Don’t wha--”

And before Tony could get much more out of his mouth than the beginning of a question, Bucky stuck something in it. Specifically, Bucky’s tongue. He put one hand on the wall behind Tony’s head, grabbed his chin, and laid one on him. 

Kissing was _very_ distracting.

Tony went completely still for a couple of seconds, and then made a soft, _hungry_ sound in the back of his throat and he was kissing Bucky back. One hand was fisted in Bucky’s shirt, the other curled around the nape of Bucky’s neck, fingers working their way up into Bucky’s hair. His mouth went loose and pliant, letting Bucky in, and his tongue teased at Bucky’s, nimble and warm and soft.

It wasn’t quite distracting enough that Bucky didn’t notice the goons -- he felt their footsteps on the floor, heard their breathing, smelled their cheap soap and terrible laundry detergent. Which was probably good, because it let him pull back just a little.

So Tony’s tongue wasn’t still in his mouth when they tasered him.

“Shit!” Tony whipped around, hand coming up defensively, a gauntlet sliding over his palm. But then the little dart sticking out of the side of Tony’s neck did its work. Bucky had a fine view, from where he was twitching helplessly on the floor, of Tony’s eyes rolling back in his head as he fell, limp as a ragdoll.


	2. Fear of Heights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear is the mind-killer. Tony discovers it’s a lot harder to resist when something is happening to someone else.

Someone threw water -- warm, stale, somewhat smelly -- in his face. “Wake up, Stark, we have not got time for this.”

Tony jolted awake, rolling smoothly to his feet in a defensive position.

Or at least, that’s what he tried to do. Instead, he just jerked and twitched against the ropes binding him, and then groaned from the throb of pain in his head. Just once, just _once_ , he’d like to see the bad guys use a knockout drug that didn’t leave a hangover. Was that too much to ask?

He peeled one eye open -- they hadn’t blindfolded him, at least -- to glare balefully at whoever was standing in front of him.

“Yes, there you are,” the man said, giving Tony a wide smile. Cheerful. Disturbingly cheerful. That might have been aided by the fact that the man was _odd looking_. His eyes were spaced strangely and his mouth was off center. Like someone had given him very bad plastic surgery. Or it might have been the fact that he’d apparently kidnapped Tony and Bucky without very much of a fight. That taser must have packed a wallop; he’d seen Bucky take Widow’s bites without flinching. “We need your help, Mr. Stark.”

Tony gave the guy an unimpressed look. “This is not an original move,” he complained. “This has been tried before. Always with pretty poor results. Sometimes disastrous. You guys have no imagination.” _Just stall_ , he reminded himself. He was playing for time. The rest of the team would be along soon to break them out. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Oh, my dear, dear Mr. Stark,” the man said, “it is not my imagination you need to worry about. Torture, you know. It is outdated. Primitive. You cannot trust the reactions of a man in pain. Merely pain, and he will give you answers, any answers. All answers. But it will not be the truth. Anything to get it to stop. But at the same time, it damages the mind, it makes the hands shake. It is a waste of time to torture you. Wasting resources. I do not waste resources.”

“That’s very forward-thinking of you,” Tony said cautiously. What tricks did this asshole have up his sleeve? Drugs, maybe? There were several that could be used fairly effectively, though the’d shorten his lifespan pretty severely.

“If we must do this the hard way, we will,” the man said. “Rip it out and take it with us. Wasteful. Pointless. You are much more valuable alive. Cognizant. And--” he reached out with a hand that was just as non-human in a way Tony could not really define, and brushed his fingers down Tony’s cheek “--biddable. He, on the other hand, is a soldier. A fine example, indeed, but not-- not like the jewel that you are.”

“Shows what you know,” Tony snorted. “He’s worth three of me, at least.”

“It’s good, you value him,” the man said, “because it is in your power to spare him.” He stepped to one side, letting Tony see past.

Bucky was there, hands shackled over his head, barely reaching the floor with his toes. He seemed to be awake, or at least his eyes were open, but he wasn’t, Tony thought, seeing the room at all. His gaze wasn’t fixed or focused, and he shuddered from time to time in response to something Tony couldn’t see.

“You see, we’ve had a great deal of time to acquire some very interesting items. Look at his temple there.”

A small device, barely the size of a quarter, was stuck to Bucky’s skin; metallic with a glowing orange light in the center.

“What is it?” Tony asked. They were going to tell him anyway. These kind of assholes liked to gloat.

“Did you know that intense fear leaves a mark on the brain, triggered to certain memories,” the man asked, although it wasn’t a question. “This device finds those marks. And strips away all the protections that come from time-- it is not like remembering. It is like _being there_ again. Fear. Constant. Without a way to escape, without a way to make it stop. It may kill him, eventually.”

Jesus Christ. “Bucky!” Tony twisted at the ropes, feeling them cutting into his skin. “Bucky, listen to me!”

“Right now, the setting is only at three,” the man continued. “Unnerving, perhaps. With jolts of terror, like when you almost trip going down the stairs, or someone pops a balloon behind you. If you agree to assist, it doesn’t have to get worse. Or no, maybe it does.”

He took a rod out of his pocket and pointed it at Bucky. “Four.”

Bucky shuddered all over, his mouth falling open. He was panting for breath, sweating. His head twitched from side to side.

“Five.”

A soft, terrified moan, and then--

“Six.”

Bucky screamed, straining at the restraints, struggling.

“Bucky!” Tony fought harder. “Christ, _stop it!_ ”

The man gestured with the rod again, and Bucky subsided. Mostly. He still wasn’t _there_ , and Tony didn’t know what he was seeing. Or feeling. Or experiencing. But Tony could guess. There was a long period in Bucky’s life where all he knew was fear and pain.

“You’re making a mistake,” Tony told the guy. “Keep it up too long, and he could turn back into the Winter Soldier, for real. He’d kill you and me and everything within a mile.”

“Perhaps, but it is your choice, Stark, not mine. Now. Shall we talk about the designs for the arc reactor?”

Tony gritted his teeth. “Let him loose, take that thing off him, and then we’ll talk.”

“You are not in a position to bargain,” the man said. “Let us have that understanding now.” He poked the rod in Bucky’s direction. “I’ll leave you to consider your options. All the yelling, you understand, it gives me a headache.”

He turned the dial on the rod. “Nine.” 

Bucky went straight past shivering and moaning to _screaming_. 

And the man walked away like it was nothing. Closed the door behind him.

“No! Bucky! Bucky! Bucky, listen, it’s not real, it’s--” Bucky couldn’t hear him. “I’m sorry,” Tony groaned, twisting fruitlessly at the ropes. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” He kept talking, pleading, hoping that some small part of Bucky could hear him and take comfort from knowing, at least, that he wasn’t alone. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s not real, it’s not real, and I’m here, I’m right here, I’m not leaving you...”

***

“Bucky!” Steve was screaming, reaching. Bucky held on, so tight he thought his fingers were breaking, so hard that--

It didn’t matter. The strut gave way with a sickening squeal of metal. Steve lunged for him, but his hand closed on empty air.

Bucky couldn’t let go of the rail, and he was falling.

_ Falling. _

The air was so cold, so loud as it screamed past his ears. Like he was moving too fast to even _breathe_.

And even so, it seemed to take forever, plummeting through cold and too-bright light reflecting off snow. The train was long gone, in those eternal seconds.

He shouldn’t have had time to have regrets, but he did. Too many.

_ At least you can’t hurt me anymore _ , he had time to think, right before he hit the ground.

“Bucky!” 

Something new, inside all the pain. Like his body was broken into a million pieces, and each one was rubbing, sharp-edged, against the others. How could he still be alive?

Shouldn’t he be dead, why couldn’t he--

_ He was falling-- _

_ It’s not real. Bucky, Bucky listen-- _

They were dragging him. His legs wouldn’t stay under him. He was so tired and they wouldn’t let him rest. Back to the table. Back to Zola. Back--

“Tony?” He could have sworn he heard, he heard. He heard something, something that wasn’t here, that couldn’t possibly be here. “ _Tony_?”

_ Bucky, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s not real, I promise, it’s not. Whatever they’re making you see, it’s not real. I’m right here with you-- _

“Oh god,” Bucky sobbed. “The chair, the--” He struggled, but it was as useless as it always was, he couldn’t get away, they strapped him down the first time, shoved the bite guard in his mouth--

Tony was watching him.

Not quiet, or calm, like the scientists often did, but agitated. He paced, chewed the side of his thumb, stared. Turned away, but couldn’t seem to not look.

“You’re not here,” Bucky said, “you can’t be here, you shouldn’t be here, they’ll find you--”

_ I’m not leaving you, I promise. _ Those big, beautiful eyes looked right into his.  _This is all my fault. I’m going to get you out of there, I swear._

Bucky was losing his grip; his hand tightened on the rail so hard he could feel his fingers breaking.

“No, no, no, no--”

There was Steve, reaching--

And Tony, just behind him, not even dressed warmly, standing there. Looking. _Watching_.

“I can’t hold on!”

_ It’s not real. Jesus, how long are they-- Bucky, honey, I’m sorry, I’m so, so-- _


	3. Team Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wants to hear those three little words. The Job’s Done.

Of course, they wanted an arc-reactor, a suit to go with it, and some big guns that might make War Machine have a case of penis envy. That was the not-surprising part of it. They did seem to have some small amount of brains, in that they did not, in fact, want him to _build_ the items. Bad guys, it seemed, did eventually learn that giving Tony anything to build was a bad plan. For them.

They wanted design specifications, materials lists, engineering blueprints.

But not for him to actually touch anything except their ancient laptop, that crawled sluggishly as he tried to open the CAD program.

“It is-- incentive for you to hurry,” the lead asshole said. Or maybe it was a different asshole. It was hard to tell; there really was something _wrong_ with his face. “As long as you produce, I will turn it off. If I think you are trying to be cute, or stall-- well...”

Tony held up his hands. “I got it, I got it,” he said, and squinted at the laptop. “You might have to find something a little more powerful. I’m not sure this has got the processing power capable of handling the circuitry for one leg, much less a whole suit.” Not that he actually _wanted_ to work faster -- the slower the thing was, the easier it was to draw this out without triggering any suspicions, and the more time he bought for the rest of the team to find them. He’d be damned if he’d be responsible for them torturing Bucky again, though.

“I have every confidence in you,” the guy said. He pulled up a chair -- he’d untied Tony’s hands so he could type, but he still had one leg cuffed and something around his neck which he rather assumed would strangle him or shock him if he tried to get away. He hadn’t wanted to test that, immediately, either. “I will sit here, for a while, and watch, while you get on with things.”

Tony rolled his eyes -- they would be suspicious if he didn’t put up _any_ show of annoyance -- and cracked his knuckles as he opened a new CAD project. Some of the circuit boards in the armor legs were just different enough to be obviously non-standard, but not so radical as to be dangerous if someone else got ahold of it. That would be a good place to start. A show of good faith, as it were.

“You will work for--” he checked his watch. “Four hours. Then I will get you food and review your designs. If I am satisfied, I will allow your friend to eat and rest with you. Are we agreed?” It was creepy, really, how _nice_ the man acted, like everything was some sort of personal favor.

“You’re the one holding all the cards,” Tony pointed out, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his tone. Even if he still had his own ace up his sleeve. So to speak. The tracker he’d designed was embedded under the skin of his thigh. Bucky’s was hiding at the base of his skull, just inside the hairline.

Four hours. Tony could do a _lot_ in four hours, with his full suite of custom-designed hardware and software, and with JARVIS closing off loose ends for him.

On _this_ piece of shit laptop... He’d be lucky to get the transistors mapped. But, well, he’d said his piece. And he needed that rest break -- for Bucky, not himself. And maybe the team would show up before then. There wasn’t anywhere in the world the Quinjet couldn’t get to within six hours.

The good news was, it took less than the four hours.

The bad news-- the building shook when something (or quite possibly, some _one_ \-- Hulk tended to take it personally when Tin Man wasn’t around) struck it.

The man, who mostly poked his phone while Tony was working and sometimes hummed, laughed, or tried to show Tony pictures of funny cats on the Internet, like what was wrong with this guy, grumbled, “I am quite certain this is your fault.”

“This laptop isn’t connected to the ‘net,” Tony objected. “It doesn’t even have a wireless card in it, it’s so old. How could it _possibly_ be my fault?” He pointed at the screen, which was actually showing some decent progress on the circuit board, all things considered. “I’ve been doing what you wanted.”

“We’ll see,” the man said. He pulled the little rod out of his pocket and thumbed it at Bucky, who had been, in fact, mostly comatose while Tony worked. “If it is nothing, I will be back soon. If it is something-- well, perhaps I will not be back at all.”

Bucky woke up with a startled cry, his eyes popping open and staring around in horror.

“God damn it, it’s not _his_ fault--!” Tony was talking to a closed door. “Son of a bitch... Bucky? Bucky, it’s okay, it’s not real...” He started the litany over again. He wasn’t sure Bucky could even hear him, except that a few times, during that interminable wait before, he thought he’d seen Bucky hesitate, head cocked as if listening. If there was the _slightest_ chance that Tony was getting through, he had no choice but to continue. “It’s going to be okay,” he promised.

He kept repeating what he hoped were soothing reassurances while he worked, taking advantage of his captor’s absence to build a tiny flaw into the circuit board. Nothing obvious, of course. Nothing that would make it fail if they built it as a test before letting him continue. Like the onionskin blueprints for the original armor in that cave, so long ago, it was only one layer. Harmless, by itself. Useless, even.

There was a ripple through the building’s electrical system; the computer blinked, and then rebooted sullenly.

Apparently, not good designs at all, the shackles that had been holding Bucky upright, were electromagnets, because they opened for that half second, and Bucky collapsed on the floor, gasping.

“Bucky!” Tony tried to scoot his chair a little closer. If he could just get close enough, he might be able to rip off that damned fear-disk. “Come a little closer, honey, just a little bit closer...”

“No, no, no,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I can’t hold on any longer!”

“You don’t have to,” Tony said. “I’ve got you, I’m going to help you. Just...” He strained to reach. “Just a little closer...”

“Tony-- Tony, don’t let go, please--” Bucky twisted on the floor like he was looking at the ground, impossibly far away.

“I’m right here, Bucky, I’m right here, I’m so close--” Tony could have sobbed in frustration; Bucky lay only inches from his outstretched hand.

“Tony?” And for half a second, Tony was positive that Bucky actually saw him. The man moved, quick as a snake, and grabbed Tony’s wrist, latching on hard enough to leave a bruise. “Tony, please--”

Tony lurched forward a few extra inches -- fuck it, if he got shocked, he got shocked. It wasn’t anything worse than what Bucky had already endured, was it? He put his hand over Bucky’s, squeezing back. “I’m here,” he promised. “I’m right here.” He reached up, brushed his fingers down Bucky’s cheek and then dug his fingers into the edges of the disk, trying to pull it free, to get a grip.

His nails slid just under the edge, and for a moment, he could see what Bucky was seeing, the snowy landscape, probably in Switzerland somewhere, rushing long below them, Bucky’s legs dangling. Could feel the way his hand ached from holding on. Turned and looked up to see Steve, reaching.

And-- Tony had the very disconcerting sensation of seeing himself through someone else’s eyes. He knew it was himself, but it wasn’t like watching a recording of himself, or seeing himself in the mirror. 

The disk popped off and went spinning onto the floor, blood dripping out of a small puncture near Bucky’s temple.

Bucky gasped, shuddered, and that grip on Tony’s arm got even stronger for a moment. “Christ.”

Tony winced a little as his bones creaked. “Bucky? You with me, here?” God, he hoped so. He couldn’t take any more of watching Bucky suffer.

Bucky managed to raise his head, his gaze wild, his eyes bloodshot and wet. “Are you real?”

“Oh, thank god,” Tony breathed. He couldn’t stop himself, didn’t even try, as he leaned in to brush a kiss over Bucky’s mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

With some effort, Bucky managed to get to his knees; although it didn’t seem his left arm was working. “You didn’t drop me,” he said, finally.

“No,” Tony agreed. “I didn’t.” There was another tremor. “Do you want to get me free so we can go meet our friends, or let them come to us?”

“What-- oh, yeah, okay,” Bucky said. With a bit of effort, he managed to get the cuffs off Tony’s ankles. “What’s-- ug, that’s so gross. Will this thing hurt you if I take it off?” He ran a gentle finger just under the line of the collar.

“Probably, I don’t know. Might as well give it a try. What’s gross?”

“They put a collar on you, like you’re-- like you’re a dog. Or a slave. It’s just gross,” Bucky said. “Hold real still, I only got one hand.” Slowly, one at a time, until Tony felt like he was being strangled, Bucky slid his fingers under the collar, then yanked, pulling Tony’s whole body forward before the material crackled and tore.

The jolt of electricity from it sizzled both of their nerves, but it was already falling by the time either of them could react.

Tony yelped a little in reaction anyway, and rubbed his neck where it had sparked.

“Ow,” Bucky complained. “You okay? That did-- did it--” Bucky unbuttoned Tony’s shirt to look at the arc-reactor. “Tony--”

Tony looked down in a sudden spike of terror. “What-- What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how it works,” Bucky said; “it got a little brighter, hummed a little harder, when the electricity hit you. I just-- wanted to make sure you weren’t going to, I don’t know… have cardiac arrest or something.” He did, apparently, however, know exactly what it looked like, and how it sounded, which Tony thought was… interesting. Worth exploring later. Tag that thought, brain, time to _leave now_.

“Oh, yeah. It does that. You should’ve seen the first time Thor hit me with his lightning; it was like Christmas.” He got to his feet, wincing at muscles and joints gone stiff from being immobile so long, and then reached down, offering Bucky a hand up. “Come on; if we don’t hurry, Hulk’s going to smash everything before we get a chance to get our own licks in.”

Bucky muttered something about licking, which Tony almost asked him to repeat, because, duH, yes.

“Don’t know that I’m gonna do so good in a fight,” Bucky was saying, “bein’ down an arm, an’ all--”

When the bad guy slammed the door open, weapon in hand. He pointed something at Tony--

Bucky moved, faster than Tony could have imagined, putting himself between Tony and danger, and then he kicked the guy; hitting him square in the middle of the chest with his boot and slamming him through the door and into the hall behind him.

“What was that about not good in a fight?” Tony wondered lightly. He scooped up the laptop -- useless as it was, it might make a decent bludgeoning weapon.

“That was messy,” Bucky said. He took up most of the hall, looking one way, then the other. “Check him, see if he’s alive. Tempted t’ tell you to double-tap him if he is.”

“Hm, maybe, but I don’t know if Nat needs anyone to question. You know how testy she gets when someone else breaks her toys.” Tony slipped past Bucky to check on their captor.

There was a pulse, and ragged breathing, which Tony supposed was a good thing. Probably. Maybe.

He scooped up the weapon that had been pointed at him -- he’d never seen it before, but he could figure out how to use it as they went -- and backtracked to grab the cuffs that had been anchoring Tony to the chair. Bucky had bent them out of shape, but Tony was nothing if not an improviser. He managed to cobble together some kind of restraint out of it, pinning the guy’s arms together behind his back. It didn’t look comfortable.

Good.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Can I--” Bucky edged in closer, slipping his arm around Tony’s shoulders. “Forget how damn heavy this thing is when I ain’t got movement.” It seemed more like an excuse than an actual need, Tony had seen Bucky lift a car with one hand -- the right one. But he was still trembling minutely, and touching Tony’s skin, just at his throat, seemed to help calm him.

A moment later, the wall shuddered, cracked, and Steve, along with several bad guys, came crashing through the hole.

“Hey, rescue squad’s here,” Tony said brightly. “Want to go help out?” He considered the weird weapon, aimed it just over a bad guy’s head, and pushed what looked like a likely trigger.

The weapon made an almost embarrassingly small chirp, like someone startled a bird, and a puff of-- _something_ \-- left the barrel. As far as Tony could tell, no actual damage happened to the wall, but every single one of the bad guys stopped struggling.

One of them shrieked, and the two who were still on their feet, bolted.

“I see I’m late for the dance again,” Steve said, picking himself up off the floor and jerking his uniform back into place.

“Hey, we’re just glad you were able to make it to the party,” Tony quipped. He turned the device over, looking at it curiously. He’d hoped that firing it would tell him what it _did_. No such luck. “Where’d you leave Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“They had some shock troops. Thor shocked them,” Steve said. “You two look less than healthy.”

“Really? Because I’m sure we’ve never felt better. Right, Buck-o?”

“‘M fine,” Bucky said. “Jus’ need a little TLC. An’ you know, to hear the three magic words.”

“Drinks on me?” Tony guessed.

“Among others,” Bucky murmured. “I was thinkin’ more like ‘the job’s done.’”

“They’re not usually the three words _I_ think of as being magical,” Steve commented, glancing back and forth between them. “But-- I’ll let you two work that out, while I mop up.”

Tony watched as Steve bolted after the bad guys who’d run away. “Are we working things out?” he wondered. The timing seemed awkward, at the least.

“Steve’s a little emotionally repressed,” Bucky said. “Not sure he even admits to havin’ any that aren’t pissed off, or righteously pissed off.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” Tony said, snorting. “Whereas you and I are mature adults, perfectly capable of in-depth emotional examination and discussion.”

“Better at that first bit than the second one, I admit,” Bucky said, ducking his chin a little. “But there ain’t nothin’ like a terrible experience t’ get a man to see, an’ admit, to what’s important.”

Tony glanced at Bucky sidelong. “That’s true,” he agreed. Though he’d known Bucky was important to him before this. They’d just been... easing into it, whatever “it” was going to turn out to be. Carefully. Slowly. Like a geriatric easing into the pool for a water aerobics class.

“You know, Steve had to be crashin’ into the ocean to even ask Peggy for a date that he knew damn well he was never going to get to,” Bucky said, as if this was news. It wasn’t. Everyone knew that. “An’ I think he thinks-- that I’m gonna do the same thing. Metaphorically. Crash an’ burn. But I’d feel like a fool, if I didn’t even _ask_.”

Tony turned to face Bucky directly. “So ask,” he challenged.

“Tony Stark, the man who’s got everything,” Bucky said softly. “An’ all I got is time. But what I got, I’d like to spend with you.”

“That was cheesy as hell,” Tony mock-complained, trying to cover the way it had made his heart lurch sideways in his chest. “You’re lucky I’m such a fan of cheese.” He stepped closer, right into Bucky’s space. “All that _everything_ that I’ve got isn’t worth half as much to me as seeing you smile at me.”

“It’s only _cheesy_ ‘cause cynicism is the new sincere,” Bucky said, and the arm across Tony’s shoulders tugged him in closer. “And you… love it.” His eyes flicked from Tony’s, down to his mouth, and up again, as if gauging his reception. “Gonna kiss you now, I think.”

“You think? You want to be sure--” Tony broke off as Bucky’s mouth covered his, letting the reflex smartassery fade away in the wash of sensation. This was even _better_ than the first kiss, the one that had been interrupted by their kidnappers. Focused and intent and absolutely certain. Gentle and curious and sweet and hot in turns, until Tony was clinging to Bucky’s shoulders to keep from sliding right to the floor.

“Ain’t never--” Bucky said, brushing his lips along Tony’s jaw, nuzzling at the spot just under his ear, “-- wanted anyone like I want you.”

“As luck would have it,” Tony murmured, tipping his head back to encourage more of that, “you’ve got me.”

“Aw, team, no,” Clint suddenly objected behind them.

“Uh,” Bucky said, intelligently, eyes going wide. Of course. The entire team-- was right behind him.

“ **Hawk guy shut up**.” Hulk, who had been surprisingly quiet, elbowed Clint-- gently. Clint only hit the wall at half-force, not even leaving a dent.

Tony dropped his head onto Bucky’s shoulder and laughed ruefully. “Yeah, okay, we can finish this discussion... later.”

“Among other things,” Bucky said, and then brushed his lips across Tony’s, once more, as if proving he had the right. 

“Yeah, I agree with Hawkeye,” Steve said. “Didn’t need to see that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Natasha said, waving a hand idly. “Carry on, do.”

“Felicitations, my friends,” Thor boomed. “We have all long awaited this day! We will celebrate and feast in your honor!”

“ _Long awaited?_ ” Tony repeated. “What-- Seriously, we only even started flirting a couple of weeks ago!”

Natasha patted Tony’s arm. “You keep telling yourself that, you’ll sleep better.”

“Did you guys all know before--” He looked at Bucky. “Did they all know before we did?”

“Darlin’,” Bucky said, “I think _you_ were th’ last to know.”

“Typical,” Tony sighed. “No one ever tells me anything.”

“Medical, food, nap. An’ then I’ll tell you everythin’ you ever want to hear.”


End file.
